Ecthelion
by Unwritten
Summary: This story is akin to a dream I had a few nights previous... I had to embelish some bits because I forgot what had happened. R&R and enjoy anyway!


"Come, Gimli, hurry! For we must find Aragorn!" shouted Legolas, with a genuine smile on his face. The elf merrily ran through the woods, his face lit up in joy, seeking the one who would give him satisfaction. 

"Slow down, you daft elf! There is no need to hurry, it's not like Aragorn will be going anywhere anytime soon!" grumbled Gimli the dwarf, who followed behind him. The two were trying to reach Minas Tirith before nightfall. They traveled through the vast forests instead of the straightaway plains, due to Legolas' personal preference. The forests about them contained extremely tall trees what did not have boughs, branches nor leaves until at least thirty feet above the ground. Their bark was a light grey in color and smooth to the touch, their leaves a healthy glimmering green. Sun peeked in through holes high above in the canopy, and washed onto the forest floor below, illuminating everything, and giving the vegetation a light glow.

"Ah, these forest are old indeed… I feel many years younger being here," Legolas softly said, as he dashed ahead. He wished to be knighted once more, for his trip back from Mandos had relieved him of his titles here on Earth. Gimli was relieved when he had heard Legolas had made it back from Mandos, for many did not. According to his elven friend only Glorfindel, Haldir, and himself had made the trip back. All three had strong wills and did not wish to relieve themselves of the burden of living just yet. 

A light breeze wafted past the lively elf and he kept running ahead, the smell of summer about him. Cheery as ever, Legolas could feel he was nearing the city where his friend could knight him once more, even though he was not king. A large clearing was ahead, and it provided view to the plains below, where Minas Tirith flourished. The stones of the grey city were easily distinguished from the greens around them, and off in the distance a glimmering pillar of light could be seen: The White tower of Ecthelion, residing in the heart of the city. Another cheeky grin lit up the elf's face as he slowed to take in what he saw, for 'twas not ever and anon1 that the elf (or any other, for that matter) saw the capital. Indeed, it was a mesmerizing sight.

Gimli ran up to meet Legolas, stopping briefly to breathe, thankful for the sudden halt. "What causes you to cease this crackbrained2 pace of yours, hmm?" said Gimli haughtily to the now silent and reserved elf. Though he was loath3 to admit it, Legolas knew the pace was a bit 'rushed', per say.

"I have never seen the White tower of Ecthelion, Gimli. A! how beautiful it is! Boromir did not lie when he told me about the city and its glories… Alas, poor Boromir!" Lamenting briefly in the remembrance of his deceased friend, the elf sighed, and began to scale his way down the slight hill to finish his journey. Gimli soon ran beside him. 

"Pardon my asking friend, but what time is it? I do surely hope we make it before nightfall, since heretofore4 you have constantly stopped to take in the sights around you!"

"Well, Gimli, I did just die not too shortly ago!" said the elf jokingly with a laugh. "I have forgotten the splendors around me!"

"So I see—your proud head was too aloft in the clouds and wonders of Aman to remember the splendors here! Foolish elf!" Legolas threw Gimli a look, which he mimicked, and the two grinned. 

"Yet besides that, it is wellnigh noon." A silence settled between the two before Legolas asked Gimli: "How long have we been friends, Master Dwarf?"

"Ever since the Battle of Helms Deep, I believe."

A look of remembrance flooded Legolas' elven features, as he sighed slightly. "Ah, that I do remember… It has been so long since then. I do miss Frodo. Part of me wishes I had sailed West with them when I was given the chance."

"Aye, as do I. The world seems lonely with him absent. The poor soul… having to go through all that."

"At least he now lives in harmony, Gimli…" Legolas said wistfully.

"Speaking of which, Master Elf, tell me the splendors of Aman!"

"Tut-tut, Gimli! You shall learn in due time, I dare not speak of the treasures that it holds just yet."

When the two reached the city, things seemed amiss to them. Besides the fact that Aragorn was not a King, for the peoples wished to have none of the sort and overthrew Aragorn in the Uprise of the Fourth Age, the city had changed greatly. Things seemed a bit more technical and thought out. Waterways, bridges, and buildings were all very symmetrical and smart; unlike the place before Aragorn had arrived. Sure, Boromir's father had the run-in then, but he was not one to care about the looks of things, only their efficiency. 

Of course, the people of Gondor still needed guidance and looked to Aragorn to correct things. To say Aragorn was outcasted was quite on the contrary; he was sought anon5 for advice and other problems that needed fixing. While the position of King had been disposed of and a democracy taken over, Aragorn was still thought as a political genius and holy-man, and he was made a noble (or kept, rather). Aragorn, heir of Isildur, was still the man he was known to be, and that could never change.

Upon entering the city, Legolas was stared at by many. Numerous children followed the elf in the busy streets, only to be shooed away by wary mothers. The ground began to gradually rise up and slant on a slight hill with many stairs carved into it. The two friends scaled these and found buildings that are even more intricate than those before. 

After climbing over nine stairways and passages, Legolas and Gimli finally reached the building where Aragorn resided. He was adorned in the colors of green and white, with silver and gold displayed about him in symbols of status. A deep green mantle was about his shoulders and he wore an elegant mossy-green tunic with many embroidered patterns of intertwining silver and gold and of Noldorian Runes of power and embodiment. Under his intricate tunic, he bore a crème-colored shirt, and on his legs, he wore deep brown leggings.

"Maë govannen6, mellon7!" called out Legolas to Aragorn, as he step forward to greet him with a warriors grasp.

"Vedui'8, mellon! Nae saian llume9," said Aragorn with a smile playing at his lips, as he recognized the gesture.

"Aye, I agree with that," said Gimli, for he too knew some elvish after spending years with Legolas. 

"Ah! I did not notice you Gimli. Indeed, you have become quiet from years of being near Legolas." The man grinned at the dwarf, and turned to Legolas, clasping his forearm once more. "What can I do for you, my good friend? Where have you been for so long?"

"Tis a long and dreary-dull story I do not wish to recount, Aragorn," said Legolas solemnly, as a shadow passed over his face. "What matters is that I am here today once more. And henceforth shall I remain until I can bear this world no longer."

"When shall you depart?" asked Aragorn softly, noting the hint left in the elf's eyes. Legolas knew when and where he would leave, though he dare not tell many.

Sighing, the elf replied, knowing his friend merely worried. "I shall remain until the twentieth Hunter's Moon10, and then I shall depart."

"That is not long, Legolas," said the man seriously and disapprovingly.

"That I know… but for me it would seem like an eternity." Aragorn looked over Legolas, and knew something was amiss. This was not the cheery, cheeky elf he once new years and years ago. This elf was changed. This elf seemed saddened and burdened beyond what any one person could imagine. Something had quaked in Legolas' heart, and it was not just due to all the battles he had participated in.

Sure, being ruthless and bloodthirsty during battle only means the best outcome, but it did have its effects of a man. Guilt, for one. Guilty for killing innocent people all in order to come out on top and assure safety and peace for the time being, until another scuffle arose between countries. Many men became frightened after battle, and swore off fighting at all costs—those men were pitiful, in Aragorn's opinion. Yet, the man knew this had nothing to do with Legolas' sudden change.

Something had happened.

Nevertheless, Aragorn had no sure way of telling—this he knew in full. Legolas would not easily relent to his provocation. This may take many years… Many years which Aragorn did not have. The man rubbed his temples in frustration as he closed his eyes in a sigh of defeat. However, when he opened them, he saw an emotion that flitted away just as fast as it came from Legolas deep cerulean eyes. 

"Legolas, you..?"  The elf looked at Aragorn with pleading, confused and shameful eyes. Legolas was not one to avert his gaze, but he did this anyway. He turned his head and closed his eyes in shame of Aragorn seeing his weakness.

"You've fallen in love?" asked Aragorn excitedly, but disbelief dripping from his voice. Crimson red colored the high cheekbones of the elf, as he stammered his response.

"Why would you think such a thing? That is preposterous!"

Aragorn chuckled. "You are still as naïve as when I last saw you, friend. Come now, tell me: who is the lucky maid? Surely anyone whom you dote on would be generous and beautiful…" Gimli watched the two in a spell of silence. Sure, they were speaking in Westernese, but he had no position to say much at the moment. Moreover, Gimli also had no clue that Legolas had found a mate. This information intrigued him, as well as it did amuse.

"Fine. Aye, tis true that I have fallen in love. I am no exception to the actions of a bemused and foolish heart. Yet, Aragorn, I…" Legolas paused and sighed inwardly. He looked deeply into the stormy-grey eyes of his old friend, and told him what to read what was there.

Aragorn gasped softly. "My… Legolas, I… I am deeply sorry."

"It is not your fault, Aragorn. I tried to, but I couldn't, and then…"

"Aman?"

"Yes."

"At least you have made it back, Legolas."

"Yes, that I have. Yet I am without her—her memory of me is gone in full!"

"So I see. She has…?" asked Aragorn. Legolas nodded to answer the silent question. "Ai! Amin hireatha, mellonamin11!" 

"Yet no matter. I am recovering. I have come to you on an important mission, Aragorn!"

"Oh? And that would be?"

"I wish to be knighted once more, sire! I would like to hold the title I have before once more!" said Legolas in a proud voice as he kneeled before Aragorn, with his head bowed. The touch of another brought Legolas back into the living world, as he looked up to meet Aragorn's comforting gaze. The man's hand was on his shoulder in a friendly gesture, and he signaled Legolas to stand. 

"I do not wish for you to bow before me, my friend. That will not be necessary at the moment." A set of confused, sapphire eyes stared back at Aragorn, and a very naïve expression was reflected on Legolas' face.

"I do no understand," murmured he.

"Then never mind that, Legolas. Let us continue with the cleansing portion of the ritual." With that, there was no further discussion; Legolas knew in his heart that Aragorn would not allow it, so the bemused elf was left to his thoughts.  The man led the elf to a small bathing area set aside in the grassy hills, formed by the natural hot springs. Legolas stripped down and slowly walked straight into the boiling water until it was below his sternum. He then chanted passages from an old text that he knew all too well and slowly dunked himself under. Timing himself for 5 minutes under the water, he sat at the bottom clearing his mind, and focusing on strengthening his body, soul, and will. At last, he slowly arose from the depths and walked back to the shore where he dressed.

Upon reaching the cleared courtyard where the Tree of Gondor proudly stood, Aragorn placed a simple silver circlet upon Legolas' head as he chanted the mantra for this situation. Legolas then kneeled before his friend, and spoke naught, for if he did, the ceremony would be a failure, and he could not be knighted for another seven years. Unsheathing the glimmering blade of Anduril, Aragorn said in a strong voice:

"Alas! Behold Narsil, the blade that cut the ring from the Dark Lord's hand in the First Age! It was shattered, yet remained in its state of power. Twas reforged, and named Anduril, in order to once more drive Sauron from these lands. The blood spoilt on this blade was true, and for this I show no regrets. I, Aragorn, heir of Isildur, King of Gondor, am the one who gave you this privilege. Use it well, or this sword shall be your doom by my royal hand, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil."

As soon as it was said, Legolas stood and turned, and knelt on his knees. Aragorn turned sideways and drove the blade straight into the back of the elf, pushing the sharp metal all the way through. A glow illuminated from Legolas in that instance, as his keen eyes turned gold, and the blade protruded from his breast. Flaxen-colored blood began to cover the blade, running along its edges, covering the metal turning it to gold. It was then Legolas wrapped his hands about the blade of the sword, allowing his blood to mix with the weapons own. 

Concentration caused Legolas' head to drop in a bowed position towards the sword's tip. After the rites were said, he pulled the blade out from behind him, and Gimli watched aghast as the wound closed quickly after the blade left. The elf turned and handed Anduril's hilt to its master, who then signaled Legolas to bow once more. 

"I knight you, Sir Greenleaf, as a protector and carrier of peace and free will. If ever you should turn to darkness, the blood that flows within you shall kill you instantaneously," said Aragorn, as he tapped Legolas' shoulders with the blade once and sheathed the blade once more. 

"You may stand, Sir Knight," Aragorn finally said. A look was exchanged between the two, and Legolas knew that he would no longer see Aragorn. He would never look upon his face in this world.   

1ever and anon: often

2crackbrained: insane

3loath: reluctant

4heretofore: up to this time

5anon: often

6maë govannen: [_my-ay goVAN-_nen] well met! (Quenya greeting, syn: Welcome!)

7mellon: [_may-yon_] friend.

8vedui': [_veh-due-ee_] greetings!

9nae saian llume: [_nigh-ay sigh-yon you-may_] It has been too long.

10hunter's moon: The full moon of mid to late October.

11ai! Amin hireatha, mellonamin!: [_aye! A-min here-ee-ah-tha, may-yon-ah-min!_] Ah! I am deeply sorry, my friend!


End file.
